The Devil's Tourniquet
by ajaxicarus
Summary: Captain Jack Sparrow and how he evaded and continues to evade Death. Again. And again. And again. Repeatedly, in fact. Rated M for later chapters, possibly.
1. Prologue

The Devil's Tourniquet

Universal Disclaimer: I neither own Pirates of the Caribbean, nor the marvelous Captain Jack Sparrow himself, although I do call him "Master" and sleep with a cardboard cut out next to me in bed. Ahem. erm. Yeah. -shifty eyes-

Prologue:::

"GO!" Elizabeth Swann shouted at the crew. They were still waiting for their beloved Captain, who had apparently "elected" to stay behind. Elected my ass... But at least he got a good kiss out of it. Well, not good, but... I'll give it a "halfway decent". Maybe just "halfway". So the motley crew began to row, as fearful for their own lives as they were for Jack Sparrow's... and they all knew he was doomed. Even before the kraken reared up and swallowed the Black Pearl whole, and before there was nowhere left to go except upriver.

Jack Sparrow, eccentric to the last, was left to face the kraken. He brandished his sword and the beast swallowed him up. All he knew after that was pain, and the foul smell of a thousand rotting corpses, which smells a thousand times worse than one corpse alone. It even rivaled the Captain's poor hygiene, and fatal breath. Razor sharp teeth were slicing into him every second. Even those that just barely grazed his flesh left practically gaping wounds that stung as if sprayed with acid. Captain Jack fought for his life inside the kraken, nearly died as he fell past teeth into the great belly of the beast.

No more teeth. It was a miracle he had survived mostly intact. But he was completely unrecognizable for all the wound's he'd sustained. Covered in blood, most of it his own, along with the black blood of the kraken. One of the kraken's fangs was lodged in his shoulder. But he couldn't be bothered with the blinding pain, now. This was it. Live or die. He had to make his choice. Mustering the last of his strength, Captain Jack Sparrow sliced through the thick belly of the beast, and escaped in a murky cloud of blood underwater. Then he swam upward, lungs screaming for air. He at last broke the surface of the calm Caribbean ocean, and promptly fainted. He was alive... for now. At least, until all that blood attracted the Kraken's weight in sharks.

---

"Kolton Merrick!" Davy Jones's voice bellowed across his ship.

"Captain." An acknowledging nod of a head full of shaggy, black sea-encrusted hair, mixed with old, dried blood.

"You will retrieve for me my heart, and your debt will be fulfilled." The Captain of the Flying Dutchman hissed at her, blowing smoke rings through his blow-holes. Even he didn't seem to happy with this arrangement. But he'd allow it because he wanted Kolton Merrick killed already. Not because she hadn't become a fantastic addition to his crew, which she had, or because she nearly rivaled him in sword prowess, which she most certainly didn't. No one did. It was because Kolton Merrick was a woman, although a very boyish woman at that. And women? They were a big "NO". When Davy Jones found out, it was too late, and her deal was made. Three-hundred-and-thirty-three years. She would do the work of two men, so the lashings weren't so severe. Sadistic pirates and one girl? That made for a party, but a party for whom?

Being kept at the mercy of barnacle-encrusted pirates, though she was one herself, made for a right pain in the panties-- not that she'd ever worn panties. Male clothes from the age of seven. All because her brother died.

One day didn't go by where she wished she was the one who got sick instead of him. So she would be the poor, unnamed, illegitimate child who'd died, instead of Morton, who had been destined for great things, as she'd been told many times as a child. Don't touch Morton's toys, he's destined for great things. And that had always been reason enough. Dress like Morton, now, play with his toys, so Mummy can still get the financial support from Grandmother. Kolt had almost been thrilled by it at first. Thought of it as a game.

But it wasn't a game, anymore. Far from it. Kolt gave up on wanting to be a lady, it was too late. It was impossible for her. She gave up on her name, and instead preferred to be called plain "Merrick". She gave up on life, itself. And she gave it up a second time when she found herself onboard the HMS. Interceptor to complete her mission. Retrieve the heart of Davy Jones.

Perhaps Davy Jones had sent her to strike fear into the hearts of the sailors. She was by far the most hideous creature to walk his ship. A good portion of her shaggy hair was instead black spines. Quite a good bit of her was barbs and spines, poking through her clothes at the shoulders, forearms, back, the entire right side of her face. Some of her skin became scaly, and turned red and black, with white stripes splashed about every so often. The spines were all poisonous, as poisonous as Merrick's trickery and deceit. It was all she knew, she'd lived a lie her whole life. She certainly could pose as a very deformed man. She had the broad shoulders of one, she was five foot ten like one. She had a nice, angular jaw, which was thankfully unmarred by the spines. Dark, taunting, near-black eyes. And once, used for ladies' amusement at various ports, she would show them how long her tongue was. She could reach the bridge of her nose with it. So naturally she became very popular about the ports. How were they to know that "he" was really a "she"?

The slippery deck of the ship was nothing to her, she was used to far worse.

She waited to be noticed. She wanted to be noticed. This was supposed to be a suicide mission, after all. And Kolton Merrick wasn't an idiot. She would show Davy Jones, and bring back the heart.

Two swords were on belts on either side of her, and she got to work. Slaughtering everyone that came in her way one by one. Even if they managed to better her, their swords could hardly penetrate the dense hide of her new striped skin. And a few shallow cuts were nothing. Many of them simply ran into her spines and died soon later, writhing on the ground and foaming at the mouth. Women were oh-so-underestimated. Why shouldn't they just use it to their advantage?

And then she found Beckett in the Captain's Quarters. She could smell his pompous ego from a mile away. They'd fought. Long and hard. Like sex. Only no one living or dead would have sex with Beckett. He was even shorter than her. What a laugh! And so blades clashed against blades. A pistol was fired, Merrick was wounded, Beckett was wounded. Both were still determined, but Beckett had better sword-fighting skills. And when it seemed he was about to win, she pierced him with one of her spines, and took back the heart of Davy Jones. Never underestimate a woman. Or Chuck Norris. But the latter hardly ever happened...

"Captain. I have returned your heart as promised, now free me from this debt."

Little did she know she would go on living, rather than given the abyss she'd longed for. And why? Because she was a woman. Davy Jones's prerogative, after all, and his decision was to make the pirate all the more miserable.


	2. Well, well, well, Captain

_I DO however own the character Kolton Merrick, as well as all of her attributes, grotesque or not. She's a character of my creation, so get used to it.Also. You may have noticed "Merrick". We all know who that is in honour of, don't we? --If you do, then reply it and you'll get brownie points in my eyes; savvy? I'm not posting the universal disclaimer again. It's universal. I STILL don't own Pirates of the Caribbean, and I don't ever plan on it._

Well, well, well, Captain:::

"Wha--what?--Kraken!" Captain Jack Sparrow at first swam, and then jolted awake, hissing at the sudden blinding pain that seared through him, and he collapsed back on... pillows?! "Now, mate, let's see here... The last thing ye remember is... swimming to the surface, savvy?" Jack thought, and then bit his lip. Oh bugger. On the plus side, he'd evaded death again. On the downside... well, he could hardly move. And his face felt a bit funny. --At least he could sort of see out of both eyes, they were kinda blurry still, though.

The room was immediately recognisable as some room in some nameless tavern. It was a nice tavern, though. It didn't smell quite so much like sex up here as it did of paper. Though the difference made Jack feel out of place. The furniture was nicer, the food smelled better. Ye gods... food! Jack Sparrow struggled against himself to at least try to sit up, even with the thunderbolts of pain ravaging his torn body. He was surpressing cries of pain, and only managed to stop one by biting his tongue when he heard the door open and he slumped back against the pillows just in case.

He didn't want to be killed lying in a bed. He didn't want to die lying in a bed. What a boring way to go. He'd have rather died in the Kraken. These thoughts were swarming through his uncomfortably clear head.

"Sit up." A prudish male voice ordered. Jack Sparrow opened his eyes again. Bugger. He recognised that voice... --James Norrington. That bloody bastard! "You!" Jack snarled, enraged, trying to sit up, to stand, to fight, to beat the living daylights out of him. All he managed to do was tangle himself hopelessly in his sheets, and from what he could feel, tore up a good deal of stitches.

Norrington only chuckled. He certainly looked a great deal neater than he last had in Tortuga, but he was still on the way to becoming the same old Norrington as before. "That's not the kind of reaction I'd expect towards a man who saved your life, Captain."

"...What?!" A horrified Jack Sparrow. Why, this was almost as bad as... as if Barbossa was trying to help him!

"If I hadn't found you when I did, Captain... The sharks would have gotten a hold of you. --If I hadn't recognised you, I would have left you to die." Norrington explained.

Wait...what? Well, at least there was a little glimmer of hope, there. "So you recognised me, mate... Good." Jack remarked. 'Heh, I must not be so terribly savaged as I thought... or as I feel.' An added thought.

"Well, at first, no." Norrington remained cold and stately as ever. Jack Sparrow felt his heart sink. "I recognised your hair and the trinkets braided in it." The last part almost sounded like a taunt to Jack, and it struck him like a slap across the face. Jack Sparrow, the handsome devil, was no longer handsome? Bugger, it's not true. Jack Sparrow is the very DEFINITION of sexy. You look up "desirable"(and any equivalents thereof) in a dictionary, his picture's right there, a little caption "Captain Jack Sparrow, the sexiest man ever."

"We're in Santiago, by the way... A port on an island, if you're not familiar with it... A short ways away from Port Royale." Another taunt. Norrington seemed to notice that deep look of self-pity and panic in the Captain's eyes, and held out a mirror. The first thing Jack noticed was that it wasn't broken like in most bars. Some tavern this was. He noticed in the mirror that there was that fang sitting on the table by his bed. He felt its ache still in his shoulder. He felt pain everywhere, really. And then he wondered absentmindedly whose face that was, with all the healing wounds, scars, stitches running up and down it like broken glass, or a severely cracked eggshell. He watched the face's eyes grow wide with his own. No. No, that wasn't him. No...

Openmouthed terror, the face had the same gold teeth as Captain Jack Sparrow... the same dreadlocks, the same trinkets scattered within it. He didn't trust himself to speak. Just mouthed it. No... No. In anguish he reached a hand to his face. He felt the stitches, the scars, and the cannibal enjoyment of his tormentor and rescuer, James Norrington. At this point, Jack wasn't sure if he wanted to throw up or faint again. Either sounded like perfect options to him.

"So now that you're in stunned silence... pay attention, because I will not repeat this again." Norrington took the mirror away and slid it into a desk drawer. His hands were clasped behind him in military fasion, and his head was held high as always. "It seems the pirate's life has... grown on me, Captain Sparrow, and I wish to amend my wrongs, mainly the injustice that was giving Beckett Davy Jones's heart. I had been blinded by desperation, I am afraid... and this will be my first true step towards redemption." Norrington's cold fierce eyes bored into the Captain's now listless gaze. Captain Jack Sparrow's eyes had once rivaled, nay, surpassed his own, Norrington remembered. And as much as he hated to admit it, Jack Sparrow was more brilliant a Captain than Norrington himself ever would be.

"And though I have not heard from Beckett in quite some time..." Norrington seemed intent on talking, even though Jack was drifting in and out of consciousness. "Assuredly he is up to no good. No man should control the sea, that in itself is an unforgivable act. The Sea belongs to everyone..." Norrington went right on talking. "The East India Trading Company is far, far out of line, and no one can do anything about it... As long as the heart is in their posession, no one-- not even the King will be able to stop them... There will be no surviviours of their war on pirates."

Speaking of no survivours...  
No wonder the news of Beckett's death hadn't spread.  
The HMS Interceptor was there, just floating lazily in the middle of the Caribbean, waiting to be found, waiting for the news of Death to spread... before being dragged down into the abyss by the mighty Kraken.

Captain Jack Sparrow sunk into a different sort of abyss, and it was laden with fear and misery. The teeth of the kraken jutted out after every corner, and women merely ran away in revulsion rather than even daring slap him on the face. Maybe if the whole of him hadn't been so messed up, he could just wear a mask and be like that... that... Phantom guy. In that musical theatre. --The opera? Yeah, that'd be it. --Too bad he couldn't sing. Damn, William, and his eunuch-singing-warriors... leave my waffles alone... stupid monkey-- ohmigod the Kraken. save me. I have Krakenphobia. Don't eat me... again. 


End file.
